Page 15 of Single Dad's Christmas Cookie

“I like cookies. Do you make cookies? Emma makes cookies.”

The kid liked freshly made cookies. Easy enough.

“What kind?”

“Every kind,” she said.

“Don’t you have a favorite? Oatmeal raisin, chocolate chip, or snickerdoodles?”

“Snickerdoodles!” A big smile crossed her face.

I'd already planned on making cookies, seeing as it was Christmas, the season for all kinds of cookies.

I made a mental note to make sure I had more than enough ingredients for lots of snickerdoodles.

“What else do you like?”

“Popcorn!” She jumped with enthusiasm.

“You said you knew how to make popcorn. I take it, there’s packs of microwavable popcorn in the pantry?”

“Oh, yes.” Amelia skipped past the row of cabinets I was making my way through and opened a tall cabinet door. Only it wasn’t a cabinet door. It was an actual door, and behind it was the narrowentry into another small room that Amelia disappeared into like Alice down a rabbit hole.

“Where did you go?” I asked as I followed her.

“In here,” she called out.

She had led me into the pantry. It was a veritable grocery store’s worth of food supplies. I probably wasn’t going to have to go shopping for anything much more than fresh vegetables and meat.

Unless, of course, there was an industrial-sized freezer hiding around here somewhere with half a butchered cow in it. Then again, if it were just Bryan and Amelia, half a cow would be a completely unreasonable expectation.

There was an entire row of cereal boxes. There were rows of chips and other snack food, bins with potatoes, and canned Mason jars with everything from stewed tomatoes to jams. And lots of pickles.

Cases of bottled water and soft drinks were stacked on the floor. And up high, there were glass jars full of candy.

My mental shopping list was changing by the second. I wasn’t going to need to buy nearly as much of anything, if anything at all. This was terrific.

“That’s my favorite cereal.” Amelia pointed to the row of cereal.

“Which one?”

“All of them. I like cereal.” She giggled and danced around.

“What do you like to eat at dinner?”

“Mashed potatoes, macaroni and cheese, chicken nuggets.” She started listing things off.

Nothing sounded like the caliber of meals I expected to be making for her father. He had mentioned that there would be family at Christmas. Had he meant Amelia? Were there more children?

When speaking with younger children, there were no subtle hints and clues you could drop. You just had to come out and ask them the question and get the information you needed.

“Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

“No.” She was gathering a collection of microwave popcorn bags in her arms.

“How often do you stay with your dad?” I had to remove the extra bags and let her hold onto just one package.

“Huh?” She looked confused.

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